


We start and end as one

by savvyliterate



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvyliterate/pseuds/savvyliterate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, but it all made sense now. River Song was Melody Pond, and Melody Pond was River Song.  And River couldn’t tell them that she was Melody because with one single misstep, she could have easily wiped herself out of existence. That, the Doctor knew, would be a very bad thing -  a story of the three months between "A Good Man Goes to War" and "Let's Kill Hitler"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story came about as a desire to tell the story of the Doctor properly falling in love with River, which you can see starting at the end of "A Good Man Goes to War" and culminating with his fierce drive to protect her in "Let's Kill Hitler." Something happened between those two in the 3-month gap for the Ponds.
> 
> It was also spawned by seeing gorgeous pictures on Tumblr of cities created out of trees and the tale of Jim the Fish that's in the diary excerpts of "The Eternity Clock." When I saw the tree cities, I knew that there was a story that needed to be told.

He could hear the shouts as he left, the begging from Amy and Rory, but River would handle it. He trusted her to take them home, to tell them what they needed to know without endangering any timelines. His hands hit the console, flicking the switch that sent him into the vortex as his heart did a giddy little jump. He _trusted_ River Song. And wasn’t that just a brilliant thing? Well, especially brilliant since about 10 minutes earlier, he'd wanted to strangle her with his bare hands. He’d thought she’d betrayed him, had toyed with him and left him to dangle, not caring about him nearly as much as she claimed.

Oh, but it all made _sense_ now. River Song was Melody Pond, and Melody Pond was River Song. River couldn’t be there because her baby self had been, and that would have been a nasty paradox and a half. He’d learned that one the hard way when an adult Rose had wound up in the same room as an infant Rose, and let’s not even discuss the paradox that should have happened with multiple versions of Amelia Pond around. And River couldn’t tell them that she was Melody because with one single misstep, she could have easily wiped herself out of existence. That, the Doctor knew, would be a very bad thing. 

He jerked the monitors down and displayed the images of the little girl from Florida he’d culled from his memory, side-split with the TARDIS’ data file on River. He fisted his hair, the excitement waning a bit. “Stupid Doctor, stupid, stupid,” he spoke aloud to the empty console room. “Of course River and the little girl were the same. She was practically broadcasting it when we were inspecting the suit. How much does she remember?” He could see the resemblances between the child and the adult. The little girl, when you looked at her closely, was very much the offspring of Amelia Pond and Rory Williams. The shape of the face was Amy’s, the hair was Rory’s. The eye shape was Amy, the color Rory’s. And that nose? All Pond. 

Adult River looked somewhat different, but that had to account for age. He frowned. There was less of a family resemblance there, though he could see Rory still in the eyes and Amy in her face. The blonde seemed to be her natural hair colour, and that leaned to Rory’s side. Still, she wouldn’t have lost that much of her childhood looks unless …

Oh. _Oh._

“She can regenerate.” The giddy excitement returned, and he pirouetted. “She can regenerate! Of course! Human plus! Not just human plus, but maybe more Time Lord than human. I need a sample of her DNA. Something from her room.” He leaped up the stairs and nearly skidded into the wall. Did River even have a room? Something pricked in the back of his mind to go check his room, but he blushed and quickly backed away. Well, yes, they did the kissing thing. The one time at least. It’d been a very enjoyable kissing thing, and he wasn’t that dense. He knew it’d would eventually be far more than a kissing thing. But, one thing at a time. Figure River out, then all that other … well … _stuff_.

He bounded back down the stairs to the console. “I need to talk to River,” he told the TARDIS as he began keying in the coordinates for Stormcage, around the time he’d taken Rory to earlier in the day for him. “You’ll take me to her?” He patted the console as the TARDIS wheezed in response before settling gently. Without checking the monitors, he sprinted to the doors, flinging them open to greet the dimness of Stormcage.

And found he was somewhere very different.


	2. Chapter 2

Ityicha was dying.

King Tricopa IV folded his massive hands together, bending his head until his forehead touched the tips of his fingers. The buzz of the council swarmed around his head like purple-striped ligams gathered around a flower. He tuned them out. Oh, there were suggestions, lamentations, demands and fear -- so much fear. He could smell it, the ripe tang of it as his council sweated, paced and shouted. 

He closed his eyes and allowed his connection to the planet to flow. He tuned out the noise and reached for that weakening link that passed from generation to generation. It was the sole sign of lineage on Ityicha, and the one thing that kept usurpers off the throne. A single man or woman inherited the ability to link with the planet. That link kept the trees fertile, the economy going strong. His arm pulsed, and he fought the urge to roll back the elaborate sleeve of the robe he wore. It would only send everyone into a panic. It most certainly had sent him into one when he glimpsed the black, deadened skin in the mirror just days earlier.

“I want to speak with the person who gave you the diagnosis,” he told his chief counselor.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, sire.”

“Why not?”

“We sentenced her to burn.”

“You _what?_ ”

The counselor swallowed hard and gestured toward the window. With a groan, Tricopa pushed himself off the throne and wandered to the window. He almost reached for his throbbing arm and forced his hand to twitch the curtains aside instead.

Far below, in the palace courtyard, soldiers ringed around a pile of kindling with a single shaft of wood protruding from it. He could see the consultant they’d sent for lashed to it, awaiting his order for the sentence to be carried out.

“What crime did she commit?” he barked to the counselor.

“Well … she did told us the planet is dying.”

Tricopa gave him a measured look. “Is that a crime?”

The counselor wrung his hands nervously, swallowing several times before eking out, “Well, it is distressing news, sire. Your father didn’t care for such things. We were always told to burn those with distressing news at the stake.”

“Maybe, if my father had actually listened to the distressing news, we wouldn’t be here to begin with.” Tricopa sighed and let the curtain drop. “Let her go and bring her here.”

“But, sire …”

“I am _not_ my father. You’d do well to remember that.” He turned away and allowed himself one good scratch at the arm before stalking back to his throne. He sank onto it and fought the urge to bury his head in his hands. His father was dead, and he had the very strong suspicion that if things were as dire as the state of his arm was telling him, then he didn’t have long to live either.

\-----

Trees towered over the Doctor, soaring so far into the air that he couldn’t begin to see the tips in the inky black sky. Shapes were woven into them, and … he squinted, then a small squeak escaped his lips. No, not shapes. _Buildings._ There were buildings artfully woven into the trees, like patterns on an intricate tapestry. Walkways and ramps ran like spiderwebs among the branches, connecting the structures to each other. He could just make out small shapes, which mean it had to be inhabited by creatures of some sort. The primary atmosphere was oxygen, which meant most likely humans or humanoids.

“Well, now.” He rocked back on his heels, a small knot of anticipation and excitement curling in his gut as the breathtaking first impression gave way to a sheer sense of wonder. His sense of responsibility urged him to get back on the TARDIS, to redirect to Stormcage, start the process of getting little Melody back where she belonged with her parents. 

But everything in his gut told him that he needed be here, on this planet he’d never been, in a world of magnificent trees and stars and mystery. The TARDIS brought him here for a reason, and she always took him where he needed to go. He pulled the door shut behind him. “Let’s have a look.”

He wasn’t quite near the bottom of the trees, but he was close enough to where the noxious fumes was quite offensive to his sense of smell. “What do they do, just toss all the rubbish over the side?” he murmured. Instinct had him looking up and sidestepping what appeared to be a stream of assorted trash as it cascaded by in a multi-colored waterfall that would be oddly compelling if it didn’t reek. Yes, apparently, they did. Great for fertilizing said trees, bad for Time Lords who took pride in keeping their bow ties neat.

“That’s a really bad place to park that,” a voice spoke from his left, and the Doctor peered over his shoulder at a really beautiful specimen of human. It was a woman, about Amy’s height, with skin the color of mahogany and russet-colored hair tied into intricate braids tumbling to her waist. A blue jumpsuit was cinched at the waist with a toolbelt, and she gave him a tired smile. “Never know what they’ll toss from up there next.”

“Yes, well, apparently it’s more expedient to toss things over the side than to invent plumbing.” The Doctor edged his way to the woman’s side. 

“Oh, we’ve plumbing alright.” She flashed a smile. “It has to end somewhere.” She waved a small twig she carried, and a door slid open in the tree trunk next to them. “Not sure who gave you the coordinates. We’ve a proper landing platform a couple branches up. Though, that’s one of the oddest ships I’ve ever seen. Want to re-park? I can give you directions.”

“Maybe later.” The Doctor followed the woman into what appeared to be an elevator. He slowly turned in a circle. What natural light there was spilled into the a wooden box the size of a real police box. The woman fitted two fingers into a groove in the wall, and the box began to move. 

“Suit yourself. Besides, not like they’ll ticket you. Pretty much everyone’s watching the burning today.”

“Burning?”

“Oh, yeah.” The woman tilted her head to one side. “Aren’t you here for that? They’ve come from three planets away for this. Hadn’t had a good stake burning in centuries, but we’ve never had a criminal like this one either.”

“What did she do?”

“You mean you haven’t heard?”

“Well, as you so aptly put, I didn’t even know where to park.” The Doctor rocked back on his heels and studied the streaming light. “I’m a bit behind on interplanetary news. Had a busy couple of weeks.”

The box door slid open, and the Doctor followed the woman onto a wide platform. They were higher up in one of the trees now, lattice railing made of thin white stripes criss-crossing in an intricate pattern in a circle that encircled the area. Hundreds of people gathered, all but stepping on each others’ toes as they clamored for a look at the poor soul who’d gotten caught in the king’s palace, trying to open a door that not even a king could enter. It looked to be some kind of market place, but all the stands, tables and chairs were pushed back against the buildings that ringed the circle. In the center stood an elaborate display of a single shaft of wood protruding from piled up kindling. Surrounding the kindling were armed guards wearing tall shako hats and looking like they’d just stepped out of The Nutcracker Suite.

And lashed to that stake, serene and looking almost bored, was River Song.

The giddy feeling that filled him when River revealed her identity just an hour earlier return. Really? An hour? Two at the most. He couldn’t stop the grin spreading from ear to ear, pointing and clapping his hands. There was River and she was Melody and she was a Pond and she was magnificent and she was scant minutes from getting burned at the stake. Really, he wouldn’t take her any other way. He clapped his hands a bit and pointed at her, and there might have been a bit of a giggle.

The woman slanted a glance at him. “You get that excited now, I wonder how you’ll react when they burn her.”

“Oh, they’re not going to burn her,” the Doctor said confidentially. 

“Yes, they are!” The woman gestured to the excessive show of military force. “She’s tied to a stake and surrounded by an army. How would anyone escape that?”

“Because she’s River Song,” he replied and began to work his way through the crowd.

“What’re you doing? Don’t get closer, they’re going to arrest you! Are you crazy? You’ll end up where she is!” The woman started after him, then threw up her hands. “Not my problem. Hey, I tried.”

He was halfway through the crowd when River’s gaze landed on him. He gave her a little wave, and she smirked. She mouthed something to him, but he could already guess what it was. _Hello, sweetie._ Strange how that no longer annoyed him. Instead, he puffed up his chest and approached the barrier. 

“Hello!” he yanked out the psychic paper and flashed it at the tallest, burliest man there. “I’m from the government stake-inspecting office, here to make sure you’re following regulations when it comes to your ritual sacrifice. Or is it corporal punishment today? In any case, first stake-burning in centuries, got to follow the rules.”

The soldier gave the Doctor the beady eye. “That office was closed 478 years ago,” he growled.

“Well, it’s been reinstated as of 10 minutes ago.” The Doctor flashed the paper again, and the soldier caught the Doctor’s wrist. He frowned at the psychic paper. “This says you’re from the sanitation unit!”

“Sanitation unit? Ah, yes … yes … we’re a sub-department of the main department that’s under the tertiary head of … Run!” With that, the Doctor yanked the sonic out of his coat pocket with his free hand and aimed it the ropes securing River. The sonic rays whirled out just as he was knocked back … and promptly set the kindling on fire.

“Great!” The Doctor yelped, shaking the sonic. “Now you decide to work on wood!”

River rolled her eyes as the Doctor and the soldiers gaped at the quickly growing flames. 

“Put that out!” the soldier yelled. “The king isn’t here yet!” He jerked the Doctor up by the lapels. “You ought to join her on the stake.”

The soldier suddenly froze, then swallowed hard when he felt the cool barrel of a gun press into his neck. 

“Hello, sweetie,” River said calmly as she held the soldier at gunpoint with one hand and kept a second gun aimed at the other soldiers.

“Hello, dear,” the Doctor choked out, then flushed. Dear? _Dear?_ When did he start calling River ‘dear’? Apparently now. Now he was calling her ‘dear’ and it must be a thing and he must be OK with that thing because he was doing it now. “I thought you were tied to the stake?”

“Well, I had mostly sliced through the ropes before your fire took care of the rest of it.”

“Are you hurt?”

“My boots got scorched.” He peered down to see the leather was scuffed up and a couple of burn holes had made their way through the toes, exposing neatly painted red toenails. Somehow, those toes against that burned leather was doing _things_ to him, and he shifted the hand still holding the psychic paper so it was, well … keeping him from being very embarrassed. It really was mortifying to have those kind of thoughts while being held up by your coat lapels.

“I’ll replace them.”

“You better. And that wasn’t wood you soniced, sweetie.”

“It wasn’t?” The Doctor’s face fell. “I thought I finally got it to work on wood.”

“It was all soaked in gasoline. Sonic rays are very effective on gas.”

“Oh. Well. Where’d you get those guns?”

“I keep them here and there.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Care to do a full-body search?”

And he thought of being kissed by her in Stormcage, of how he had nearly plunged his fingers into all of that glorious hair, and his hand on her shoulder and her lips on his, and the power of speech completely deserted him. He swallowed and wondered if he was blushing. The way River was smirking at him told him that, yes, he was probably redder than Mars.

As sturdy as tweed was, his coat had been abused quite a bit in the past few days. But it was still rather a shock when the lapels suddenly gave with a loud rip, and he found himself on his back at the feet of his captors. He sat up, pulled off the jacket, and stared mournfully at it. “I like this coat!” He shook it at the soldier. “You ruined a perfectly good coat!”

“You set free a perfectly good prisoner!” The soldier looked mournful. “I was looking forward to the stake burning.”

The Doctor rolled to his feet and wrapped an arm around the soldier’s shoulders in a gesture of comfort. “I really hate to break it to you, but she’d have broken out with or without my help.”

The soldier’s face fell even further. “Really?”

“She does that.” He patted his shoulder.

“Sweetie.”

“What?” He peered over the soldier at River, who was giving him that sort of long-suffering look she’d given him on several other occasions. 

“Pardon me! Pardon me!” A thin, high voice cut through the crowd, and a small man with a thin shock of neon yellow hair tied back in a queue wormed his way through the men. He waggled a ring-covered finger at River. “Dr. Song! You’re supposed to be getting burned at the stake!”

“I’ve a habit of not doing as I’m told,” River replied, and the Doctor rolled his eyes skyward.

The man placed his hands on his hips and tapped his foot. “Well, it’s really a sign of disrespect!”

River shot him an incredulous look. “It’s a sign of disrespect that you’re wanting to burn me at the stake for simply telling the truth.”

The little man sighed, shaking his head. “Sadly, the king agrees with me. He wants to speak with you.” He wrinkled his nose at the Doctor. “Who is that?”

“The Doctor. He’s my assistant.” 

“Your assistant?” The Doctor squeaked.

River didn’t acknowledge him. “Come along, sweetie. We’ve work to do before you go back and do the laundry.”

“I am certainly not doing your laundry!” The Doctor retorted as he followed River and the little man toward the large tree that marked the palace. “You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

River merely winked, and he glowered at her. Just like with Octavian and the Weeping Angels, the Doctor was walking into a situation where River was clearly the one more experienced about what was going on.

This time, he didn’t really mind. Much.

They walked into an elaborate entry hall, the walls carved from the trunk of the massive tree. The ceiling was formed by gigantic branches that criss-crossed each other, green leaves providing a decorative and sweet-smelling ceiling. The gleaming brown wood was married with spots, the Doctor noticed. Big, splotchy black spots with patches of white ringing the edges. He meandered over to one and ran a finger over the spot. It was fuzzy and … he licked his finger and scowled. Bitter. He rubbed his index finger and thumb together. Bitter and sick.

“It’s a good thing that this disease isn’t one that affects Time Lords,” River muttered, and the Doctor noticed she was giving him that long-suffering look again. She rolled her eyes as they walked into the throne room.

Once upon a time, the room had been elaborate -- the crown jewel of a magnificent empire. Pictures showing events from the kingdom’s glorious past were carved into the wooden walls with such care that it seemed like a maple version of the Bayeux Tapestry. The black spots were here too, gathered into patches that climbed up the walls, eradicating entire swaths of history. An air of sickness and death hung over the room, even though it was meticulously neat and the anachronistic rushes lining the walls were fresh. 

A massive man on a massive throne on a massive platform sat at the end of the room. Dark hair tumbled over his shoulders, and his skin was a shade lighter than the walls surrounding him. He gazed down at the Doctor and River, assessing them with eyes that seemed to hold far less bloodthirst than the soldiers under his command. This, the Doctor thought, was a very good thing.

“Dr. Song, I apologize for the way my court has treated you to now,” he said. “I understand you were hired to sort out the problems going on with this planet, and I have heard the unfortunate reception your diagnosis caused. Please, you have nothing to fear from me.” He quirked an eyebrow. “You might want to put the gun away.”

“I’m more comfortable holding it,” River said casually, and the Doctor saw she held her blaster in her hands. Not aiming it, but she was still ready to if need be.

“River …”

“Sweetie, you’ve got your security blanket. I have mine.”

He had a quick mental flash of baby River cuddling a gun like a teddy bear and nearly laughed. 

“This is the Doctor,” River told the king. “He’ll be assisting me on this matter.”

The king glanced briefly at the Doctor, then waved at the assembled members of the court. “Leave us now.”

The little man promptly turned an interesting shade of purple. “But … but … but … sire!”

“Leave!” he barked.

“She has a gun!”

“That I do,” River said with a flirty wink at the little man. She twirled it before smoothly reholstering it. “There. Does that make me less threatening now?”

The man’s voice rose two octaves. “No!”

“You have to give him points for honesty,” the Doctor said, and River rolled her eyes.

But the king was the king, and in short order no one except for the three of them remained in the throne room. The king locked the doors himself, sliding a massive wooden bar into place to keep everyone out. The Doctor really hoped the king wasn’t going to try to murder them. Blood would be particularly nasty to get out of those elaborate wooden panels, and he was quite sure it wouldn’t be his own or River’s either.

“I’m King Tricopa IV,” the king introduced himself. He rolled up the sleeve on his robe to reveal blackened, dead skin crawling up his arm. It was halfway between his elbow and shoulder. Fuzzy patches, much like the ones on the throne room walls, covered his palms. “My planet is dying. Please. Please, help me.”

“Your planet is dying because it’s been infected. Literally,” River said for the Doctor’s benefit. “About two weeks ago for me, I saw a posting on the Ydraxil space station looking for someone, anyone who knew what was going on with this planet. I’m not a tree doctor, but I am an archaeologist … and don’t roll your eyes at me,” she said as the Doctor was doing just that. “I’ve seen this before, studied it on other planets similar to this one.”

“What happened?” Tricopa asked.

“I think you already know the answer to that. Partly. The water on Ityicha is tainted. Not the water brought to you personally, but what’s consumed by your people. They’re drinking the water and the waste that results from it is being dumped at the bottom of the trees like fertilizer. Normally, human waste is an excellent source of nutrition for plants, but not in this case.”

“Someone got sick,” the Doctor murmured, thinking about the area of cascading waste where the TARDIS had landed.

“Someone got sick,” River confirmed. “Most likely brought on planet from one of the dying ones. They brought a parasite that tainted the planet’s water. It’s accelerated by Ityicha going through its version of the Industrial Revolution. As technology got more advance on Earth,” she explained more for Tricopa’s benefit. “The atmosphere was damaged because of coal, oil and other gasses. The same thing’s happening here.”

“But, in this case, it’s the water that goes into keeping the trees alive,” the Doctor added.

“Exactly. I’d have to get a sample in a lab to confirm, and no, my love, licking it doesn’t count. But, I’m fairly sure it’s a variation of a known tree-rotting disease called heart rot. The disease eats away at tree trunks and branches from the inside, making them prone to break.” She gave Tricopa a measured look. “You already knew that.”

“The monarchs of this planet are linked to its heart. We inherit the ability when our predecessor dies, and my father passed away two months ago. The doctors said he was wasting away, and they literally meant that. It took years, but it started just like this.” Tricopa gave his arm a rueful look. “I honestly thought I had more time to figure out exactly what it is, but I had a guess. Something was literally eating our trees. My father didn’t want to listen to anyone about it really. He did something that abused the link to the planet. Everytime I try connecting with it, all I feel is pain and suffering. Then this,” he gestured to his arm, “gets worse.”

The Doctor pulled out his sonic and ran it over Tricopa’s arm. He flicked it and checked the reading. “Same tree rot,” he told River.

“That’s what I figured.” She had her tablet out and was keying in some data. “You’re linked, and the planet is dying. I’m not sure how long any of you have got, but if the trees start to collapse …”

The Doctor thought of the weight of the trees and the people. River didn’t have to say it. The heart rot had the same effect that a swarm of termites raiding the planet would. The trees would cave in on themselves, bringing everyone living among its branches down with it.

“The only thing that’s been known to stop this is this medicine.” River dipped back into her belt pouch and took out a test tube. “I picked this up in the Drai system. A couple drops added to a source of pure water, and it has amazing healing properties. I just need a cup. If you drank that,” she said to Tricopa, “you can use your link with the planet to heal it.”

River paced to the wall and ran a fingertip over one of the uncorrupted panels. “Sometimes, the most tragic thing you ever see as an archaeologist is a crumbled civilization where it could have saved itself. Every building on this planet is a work of art.” She looked at the Doctor over her shoulder. “You haven’t even begun to see what this planet is, sweetie. It’s a marvel of man and nature, and I came here because there’s nothing else like it in the universe.” Her gaze was serious as she turned back to Tricopa. “Once I succeed, you’ll have a choice whether to throw it all away.”

“We succeed,” The Doctor spoke up, and how could he not help her? She would do it whether he was there or not and knowing that made his gut clench. There was something in her words that reminded him of himself, and he didn’t know if he should be flattered or frightened.

She smiled. “We succeed,” she agreed.

“There is one place you can try,” Tricopa suggested. Robes billowing around him, he strode back to the throne and to papers spread out on a table before it. He jabbed a thick finger on the paper. The Doctor leaned over and saw that it was a map of their particular location in the solar system. “We have an alliance with the Hydropi. They supply whatever water we can’t get naturally. Talk with them. If they can’t do it, no one can.”

“We’ll start there,” River agreed.

“Thank you, Dr. Song. Doctor.” Tricopa extended his non-diseased hand. “My father made a lot of mistakes with this planet. I want to at least try to save it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For timeline purposes, the River in this story has not done Utah for the second time.

They took an elevator to the top of the tree where, River explained, there was a transport platform.

“I want to get a few things I left in the room I was renting,” she said. “Then, we can take the TARDIS to Anteria XVI. It’s where the Hydropi live.”

They stepped onto a narrow platform. Several long bridges jutted from the tree, but she bypassed those and headed for what looked like a garage.

“A lot of people use the bridges, but I prefer this.” River indicated objects by the garage, and the Doctor strode over to them. They were taller than he was, but very thin. He tugged on one, and it flipped forward, revealing itself to be …

“Airplanes!” His head snapped up. “These are paper airplanes! You can _fly_ with these?”

“They’re quite sturdy.” River was securing goggles around her head, tucking her curls behind her ears before tightening the band. She tossed a pair to the Doctor. “Put these on, sweetie.”

He glanced at them, then tucked them in the jacket he’d been carrying since the lapels had ripped off. Because he didn’t want to bin it, and there was nowhere to stash it for the moment, he put the jacket back on and tried not to mourn the loss of his lapels too much. “What about helmets?”

River grabbed a paper airplane. “Helmets are boring!”

“But what if you crash?”

She dragged it out to a small platform and pushed one side open. “We’re not going to crash.” There’s laughter in her voice, and he knew she was mocking him. But still … he peered over the edge of the platform. It was a long way down. A _very_ long way, so far that he couldn’t see the base of the trees. It would make a rather nasty splat. He’d already had one regeneration thanks to a fall, thank you very much. He really wanted to avoid going out that way again.

“Come on, honey,” River coaxed, and the Doctor found her waiting in the vee of the airplanes, two men wearing jumpsuits similar to the woman who helped him earlier standing behind the it. He rushed over and carefully climbed behind River.

“Where’s the controls?” he asked.

“Don’t have them!”

“Safety harness?”

“Grab on!” River waved at the men, and they suddenly pushed the airplane at a maddening speed toward the edge of the platform. With a yelp, the Doctor grabbed River around the waist as they became airborne. Her curls flew into his eyes and mouth, and it took him a moment to bat them away and get a look at the view. The sky, now that he could see it, was a purpley orange. There were a few trees that were of equal height to the one they left, but most of them were much shorter. It was exhilarating, and the magnificent wonder of the planet swept over and through him. This was why he traveled. He ventured the universe to see sights such as this, and it somehow seemed fitting that River Song was the one to show this particular one to him.

“Lean to your left!” River yelled, and the Doctor mirrored her movements, shifting his body weight as they soared around one of the taller trees. “We’re heading for that tree there.” She motioned toward one with several windmills lazily turning. “Lean forward!”

The only leaning he could do was into the middle of River’s back, and that was when he realized he was still clinging to her waist. He let go, wobbled, then grabbed hold again. No, no, he was very comfortable holding onto River like this. Besides, it wasn’t bad. She was warm and she fit well in his lap. He shifted a bit nervously. A little _too_ well. He absently found himself wrapping a curl around his finger, pulling it out and letting it spring back in place. Oh, her curls _did_ work like that. He repeated the motion, grinned, and she pinched his leg. It would be very easy just to bury his nose in her hair and close his eyes. But his dignity was saved when they suddenly landed with a soft thump, then tumbled to one side.

River slid easily out of the paper airplane, but it took the Doctor a moment of kicking and flailing before he could follow. He accidentally tore a hole under the wing and rushed off after River, hoping no one would notice until well after they were gone.

\-----

The Doctor wasn’t surprised that River was staying in what was essentially a resort. The suite, just a couple floors from where they landed, was ringed with windows cut into tree bark. Light spilled into the room, with its stone fixtures and elegant furniture. He wandered to the windows as River peeled off her ruined boots and stockings, shaking her head ruefully as she moved to a slot in the wall and pushed them in. 

“Recycler,” she explained as she pressed a button on the wall. “All organic and a good deal of synthetics are recycled here, usually to provide fertilizer for the trees. There’s a team of workers at the base of the trees that sort them out.”

The Doctor thought of the woman in the jumpsuit. “Wearing the blue suits?”

“That’s them.” 

He turned to ask her what she’d been doing when it struck him that this was the first time they’d been alone since … well, really since she’d kissed him in Stormcage. He’d been so angry when Rory had come back without her that he’d left right away, camouflaging his feelings in witty barbs and acting like it hadn’t hurt as badly as it had. Then she’d come, threw everything that he was in his face, rubbed in the cold, hard fact that his actions had caused the loss of little Melody Pond … then revealed herself to be that very child.

And, oh, how could he have not seen it before? He’d always suspected there was far more to River, that maybe she wasn’t quite human. There were certain things that carried through, despite the regenerations he suspected she’d gone through. The shape of the eyes and face, the personality, the hair … all shades of Amelia Pond and Rory Williams. He thought of River and Amy standing next to each other on the beach outside the _Byzantium_ , and how had he not realized them how alike they looked? River had been fiercely protective of Amy then and in Utah. Of course, she was her daughter. 

For a long moment, River didn’t say anything as she studied him. “You look like you’ve never seen me before,” she said after a moment, then padded into the kitchen. He watched her go, fascinated with those toes with the red polish. 

“I suppose,” he said slowly, “in a way I haven’t.” 

She paused in pulling down a tea kettle. Of course. No matter when and where in time and space, there would always be tea. “Where did you come from?”

“Demon’s Run.”

She twisted the taps and filled the kettle, a sad smile tugging at her lips. “Well. Imagine that. We’re pretty much linear for once.” She set the kettle on what looked like a hot plate. “The last place I was at before here was dropping Amy and Rory at home.”

He was surprised. He’d been expecting a much older River, closer to the _Byzantium_. Granted, this one knew the answers just as much as that one, and he was on a mission of his own. He slid onto one of the bar stools ringing a breakfast nook and fiddled with the salt shakers sitting there. Well, he presumed it was salt. He shook out a bit in his hand and tasted it. No, not salt. More paprika-ish and … _hello, spicy!_ He coughed violently, slapping his chest as the spice burned all the way down to his gut.

“Oh, sweetie.” River grabbed a glass, filled it and handed it over. He gulped it down, water splashing over his ruined jacket. 

“How are they?” he managed. “What did you tell them?”

“Not much of anything.” She took the glass from him. “I … We’d just barely gotten there when I realized someone else was waiting for them. I couldn’t stay.”

“You couldn’t say anything?” He gave her an incredulous look. “River!”

“I didn’t have time! One of their best friends walked into the house just after we got there. I couldn’t let her see me.” River snatched the boiling kettle off the plate, and he knew she was hiding something else. So many spoilers still. “They’ll be fine. I’ve seen that person before. She’ll take care of them, better than I can right now. I didn’t want to go back to Stormcage, so I went looking for a dig to join and saw the missive Tricopa sent out. It looked intriguing, so I came here.”

Where she had gotten in a nasty argument with the wrong people and nearly gotten herself burned at the stake. Really, the Doctor thought, it was rather a tame day for River Song.

Still. He watched her pour out the tea and fix his up with a lot of sugar -- something that made him blush, because River Song knew how he took his tea, and somehow that seemed more intimate than the kiss they’d shared -- and sit next to him with her own cup. All of those questions that he had at Demon’s Run, that he couldn’t ask in front of Amy and Rory, burned in the back of his throat. Then there was that vaguely disturbing feeling that he wanted to grab her, twirl her about and celebrate the fact that she was Melody Pond, and Melody Pond had grown up to be a superhero after all. 

But then that would lead to other things. Because she and him had kissed and apparently kissed frequently. Kissing was a thing they did, and he was OK with that, especially since it was River involved in the kissing. It was best not to discuss anything involved kissing around Amy and Rory, because now they were her parents, and Rory had a sword. Right, discuss kissing and other things not around the Ponds.

River moved into what the Doctor realized was a sleeping area, sectioned off from the rest of the room with tastefully decorated screens and a platform. She removed her belt and started to unbutton her blouse. 

“I don’t think I realized how early Demon’s Run was for you until now,” River said softly. She let the blouse drop, and the Doctor found himself staring at her chest. It’s not like she wasn’t wearing anything underneath the blouse. She had on a perfectly serviceable sports bra that covered up a great deal more skin than what Amy liked to call a bikini (and he called two spaghetti straps that showed far too much skin). But still, it was River, and she was clearly undressing in front of him,, and there was a bed, and they still needed to talk, and he wondered what it would be like to kiss her again, and he had the sudden urge to go visit that planet with the living punctuation marks even though semicolons were extremely nasty and …

His hearts clenched. She looked so sad, and it was his fault, and he wanted to say that no, it wasn’t too early. They’d run together, had fought like the married couple he suspected they were. He thought he even proposed to her at Amy’s wedding. Maybe. He was still trying to sort that one out. They’d kissed. It was pretty obvious they were going to be lovers in his future, and while part of him smirked about being the one to make her scream, another part wanted to hide in an immensely huge blanket fort. There was a planet for that most likely.

Though he was good at hiding them from Amy and Rory -- he was so good at hiding things from them -- River had always bubbled just under the surface of his thoughts. Even the TARDIS in human form had reminded him that River was there, as her temporary human body was dying. _The only water in the forest is the river_ , she’d told Rory. Melody Pond was River Song. River Song had killed a man, the best man she’d ever known, and was serving a life sentence for it. Melody Pond had altered DNA and …

He was standing in front of her before he fully realized what he was doing, placing his hands on her breasts. High up, spread apart. Twin heartbeats thudded beneath his fingers, and his throat went dry. “Human plus,” he murmured. “You did regenerate.”

“More than once,” she revealed. 

“How many times?”

She smiled sadly. “Spoilers. You’ll find out soon enough.”

His thumbs caressed the skin just above her sports bra. “When you were a little girl, were you kept in Florida in 1969?”

She closed her eyes. “The first time I regenerated,” she said after a moment, “I was on the streets of New York City in 1969. I was malnourished, dehydrated and very ill. Someone tried to help me, but it was too late. I was dying. I think I was 8, maybe 9 years old. The rest … the rest is spoilers. I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” He swallowed hard and tried not to think of a little girl with River’s eyes, helpless, starving and all alone. Dying in the alleys of New York. It took every ounce of self control not to go running out the door, to the TARDIS and comb every inch of New York in 1969 looking for her. She should have been with her parents. In Leadworth, 2011. She should have been loved and had a bedroom dripping in rainbows and magic and unicorns. She would have had a dog. No, a cat. She’d have a cat that would curl up with her while she read every book in the Leadworth library, then complain that she didn’t have enough to read. That sounded like something a little Melody Pond would do.. 

“Sweetie.” She laid her hands over his. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“It can change,” he said. “Time can be rewritten. River, you know what happened to you as a child. Where did you go? Where did Kovarian take you? I can save you. I can take you back to your parents and …”

Her hands on his tightened. “I told you,” she repeated, her voice steely with annoyance, “I wouldn’t change a thing. Not one minute of it.”

“But, you’d have a normal life …”

“Exactly what is a normal life? Growing up in a place like Leadworth? Trust me, Doctor, that’s a death sentence. You’ve been there.”

“Well, I agree it really is a boring little town, but there’s London, there’s …”

“No.” River stepped away from him, and he hadn’t realized how soothing her hands had been until she was no longer touching him. “You take me back to Amy and Rory when I’m an infant, and it unravels time. Not just for me. It unravels it for you, for Amy and Rory, for millions of people we’ve encountered through the years.”

“This is really the life you want?” He stepped into her personal space, his voice rising with each syllable. “You _suffered_ , River. Your parents are suffering! You’re serving a life sentence in the worst prison in the universe. You died for … you died on the streets, starving! You could change all of that!”

“Don’t go trying to put all this on me,” she shot back. “I know perfectly well where Kovarian took me before 1969. I know the buildings, the people who took care of me as an infant, the landmarks, even where they ordered takeaway. Did you not think I didn’t look it all up as an adult? And I’m not telling you because you’re so bloody early that you’d go changing all of it.”

“What? To stop us from sleeping together at some point in the future? River, if that’s the only thing that changes because of this, stop being so selfish and …” The slap cut him off in mid-sentence, the sting sharper than the one her older self had delivered in Utah. When his vision cleared, River stood a few feet away. Tears and fury had darkened her eyes, and one hand was clenched in a fist. 

“If you’re so vain as to think that was the only reason for not changing my past, then you’re an idiot,” she hissed. “I _like_ who I am. I fought every inch of the way to be the person I am today, Doctor, and if you’re trying to rob me of my entire life without asking my opinion … why don’t you go ask Donna Noble what she thinks of that?” She stepped into him, lips inches from his, her voice low and slicing through him like knives. “Except, you didn’t ask her opinion. You robbed her of everything she was.”

“I saved her,” he hissed. “She’s alive and well and happy because I removed her memories.”

“Except she’ll always have that hole in her mind. That gaping place where _something_ should be. A life that was there, gone now. Do you really think she’s happy, Doctor? How many spoilers do you want to know about _that?_ ”

He remembered the Library, how River had known of Donna, and it didn’t surprise him that she would know all of it. It still infuriated him, how she would throw Donna in his face like that. 

“If you have any respect for me at all,” River continued in that same low voice, and he could see the tension on her face, the struggle not to give into tears, “then you will not go looking for Melody Pond. If you do, I promise I’ll stop you.” She turned her back on him, effectively dismissing him.

But, he wasn’t about to be dismissed. She wasn’t going to brush him off like some underling. This was her life at stake, and it was his fault that her childhood had been stolen away. He darted around her, blocking off the bathroom entrance. It was the only place she could go. 

Without thinking about it, and really, if he had thought about it, there was no way he could have done it, he kissed her. She tasted of tears she’d just started to shed, and he didn’t deserve any of them. His hands spasmed a bit, still not quite sure what to do, but at least this time he indulged himself in burying one hand in her hair. The other slid around her waist, drawing her to him as her mouth opened under his. He was the one who started it, but she deepened it, and why did he ever run away from _this_ after Utah?

He backed her up until she was pressed into the doorway. Her hands were fisted in his hair, tugging just a little too hard and, oh, he liked that. His hand splayed over the small of her back, and he couldn’t get over just how small her waist was. She always appeared larger than life, but his hand spanned a good bit of her back, and he wondered if he could measure her waist with hands? He’d have to try it once that hand was done trying to work its way beneath the bloody sports bra. Really, sports bra. At a time like this? 

She pulled away, just long enough to strip the bra over her head and fling it into the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of full breasts and hardened nipples before she pressed back into him, nipping and biting his jaw before moving down to one of his pulse points and … the heat that shot through him was unexpected and, all at once, his clothes were painfully tight. The hand still buried in her hair fisted tightly, and she gave a low moan of approval before moving back up to reclaim his lips.

She pulled away, scooping hair back from her face with a laugh. “Honey, the bathroom door might not be the best place for this.”

Rational thought began to do its best to work its way through his brain. No, no, no, not now. He wasn’t afraid of sex. When he’d chosen to do it, sex had always been highly enjoyable. But it would mean something to him, to them, and … he could see the doubt flash in River’s eyes and knew she was about to give him a way out. It was still too early, he was still too young, He could see so many potential timelines radiating from this very moment. Not just this moment, but the entire day. Had it really only been a couple of hours since he’d stared her down at Demon’s Run?

He thought of the warm smile she’d given him, her hand sliding over him as she guided him to look at the prayer leaf. He’d still been so angry, but that gentle touch had caused him to shiver. Her touch always did. He reached for her now, brushing his thumb over her cheek as she leaned into him, kissing him once more. Whatever anger that remained from their fight dissipated, the giddy joy when he realized who she was returning. River Song was many things, much of them still unknown to him, but River Song was Melody Pond and wasn’t that just miraculous? The daughter of Amelia Pond and Rory Williams, and if she was anything like her parents, she was even more amazing that he’d already seen, and …

Wait a second.

Pond.

Amy and Rory.

_Oh. Oh, no, no. Nononononononono, what am I doing?_

He jerked away from her in shock, eyes wide and nervous as he took in her flushed face, eyes dark with lust, her naked breasts. He swallowed, hard, and tried to look at anywhere but those dusky nipples that he had to uncontrollable urge to … no, no, no.

River smiled fondly. “You’ve got that look on your face again, Doctor.”

He swallowed. Hard. And forced himself to look at her chin. “What’s that?”

“That ‘I’m about to shag my best friend’s daughter’ look.”

“I … uh … I assume that’s not my normal face. I hope. Well … I mean, the part that you’re the daughter of my best friends. It’s not like I haven’t thought the other part … well, I _have_ thought about the other part. Not that often!”

River laughed, throwing her head back, and the Doctor’s gaze slipped to her chest before he squeaked and scooted back a bit. “You’re so adorable young,” she said and kissed his cheek. “All right, honey.” 

She picked up the sports bra and tossed it into a hamper, then moved to a bureau to pull out more clothes. He leaned against the bathroom door and watched as she shucked off the rest of her clothes with her back to him. He was doing his best to not let his gaze linger on her bum, and he really should turn his back, but pride and curiosity kept him rooted there. So he forced his gaze back up to her hair and thought about their argument.

She was right. That was the thing that hurt the most. Everything River had said, at Demon’s Run and now, was right. His actions had caused the war that resulted in her kidnapping. He had erased Donna’s memories without her consent. And if he saved Melody Pond, he would be erasing River Song from existence. He thought of Donna and the 4,000 stuck in the Library. Of the cracks in time that would still be there if River hadn’t helped wire him into the Pandorica to get rid of them. Of the Weeping Angels she had helped send into those cracks, and the fact that she saved Amy’s life. Of the Silence she had slaughtered, again helping to save Amy. 

Every time she needed him, he’d been there. And every time he needed her, and funny how much he hadn’t known how very much he needed her until now, she’d been there. Demon’s Run was the aberration, but she’d been there the entire time to begin with. Insulting his bow tie from birth. He thought of the devastated looks on Amy and Rory’s faces. He thought of River as he’d seen her in that bloody chair, sacrificing herself to save them all. “Don’t you dare,” she’d hissed, begging him not to change a single minute of their time together.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. It felt wrong to be saying that. He was the Doctor, he was suppose to be confident all the time. But, he really didn’t know what to do, and somehow he knew River understood and wouldn’t judge him for it.

River turned, now clad in knickers and was trying to fasten her bra. “I know, sweetie.”

He moved to her, taking over the task. He frowned as he tried to fit the little hooks in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Things like this aren’t easy, honey. You love my parents.”

Yes, he did. He loved his Ponds fiercely. But he also loved … no, he thought he was falling … Terrified of the thoughts that crossed his mind, he kept talking. He was good at that.. “There is a tribe of Dfrixal that has a temple made of shark teeth. Rather pointy that. Very slippery, if you fall, you could get hurt.”

She smiled. “So, you’re saying you’re afraid of falling on shark teeth right now.”

“I think they’re already jabbing me in the side.”


	4. Chapter 4

When they arrived at the TARDIS, the maintenance worker who had guided the Doctor up to River's aborted execution was waiting for them. Her uniform was a bit more splattered with gunk than before, and she hummed under her breath as she worked. Not entirely satisfied with her lot in life, the Doctor surmised, but dealing with it the best she could.

“You’re back. Thought you got burned at the stake,” she said as she wiped off the side of the TARDIS. She stepped back and studied her work. “Was trying to figure out what to do with your ship. Some of the gunk got splashed on her. I cleaned her up.

“Being burned at the stake is boring,” the Doctor informed her. “What’s your name?”

The woman rolled her eyes and returned to wiping away at the side of the TARDIS. “Ennista.”

“Ennista! Brilliant name, Ennista!” The Doctor swept his hands toward River. “This is Dr. River Song. We’re off to save your planet!”

Ennista snorted and tossed the rag in a bucket. “Not sure it’s worth saving if you ask me.”

“Ennista! Ennista, Ennista,” he chanted, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and directing her toward one of the more unsullied parts of the platform. “Look up there, Ennista. What do you see?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Raining shite?”

“Well …” He wrinkled his nose a bit. “Besides that.”

Ennista rolled her eyes, shook her head a little and squinted up at the tree leaves. “Leaves. Something that could be called sky, but I hardly ever see it.”

“Now, don’t be cynical. Life’s too short to be cynical, and I can hear your smirk back there, River,” the Doctor called over his shoulder. “You’ve got dreams, don’t you, Ennista? Tell me, what would you be doing if you weren’t doing this?”

Ennista gave him a wary look. “You’re kidding. That’s got to be the lamest come-on ever. Do you really allow him to do this?” she directed at River before sighing. “Fine. I wanted to be a lawyer. Happy? Except the last king had all the lawyers shoved into … that pit there.” She indicated a spot in the distance. “The screams were terrible. No lawyers here now. But, there’s something about it, you know? Helping people. Some people want to be a med, but I like the law. Just a dream though.”

“Thing about dreams, Ennista? There’s always the chance they can come true.” The Doctor opened the TARDIS door and jerked his head toward the inside. “Want to go with us?”

Ennista peered around the Doctor at River. “Don’t you think the missus would have a problem with it?”

“It’s all right, Ennista. I know what he’s doing. Bless.” Rive gave the Doctor a fond look and stepped around him onto the TARDIS.

His eyes darted around as he tried to puzzle out the meaning behind that statement. He was offering someone a chance to explore the universe? Well, that’s what he always did. Maybe that’s what she meant. Or not. Maybe she meant something else entirely, and he wasn’t getting the meaning of it. He could ask her, but that would probably lead to 17 different answers and six innuendos, four of them guaranteed to make his clothes feel really uncomfortable.

“You go on,” Ennista said. “I …”

River popped back out of the TARDIS holding a thin stick. “There is something you can do for us here, Ennista.”

\-----

The Hydropi were an aquatic species that evolved from fish. Over the years, and a few experimental procedures involving humans, they had evolved into a bipedal creature. The pictures that River pulled up on her tablet showed them look like a shorter, stockier human but with gills that allowed for breathing. It caused their skin to be an array of colors -- from a shimmering gold to a lovely multi-colored hue. They were bald, which meant they found River’s hair to be an immense source of fascination.

“Why her hair?” The Doctor groused as he watched her be surrounded by Hydropi, all eager to touch her curls. “I have perfectly nice hair.”

“It’s the way of the universe, sweetie,” River said with great amusement and closed her eyes, letting out a low moan of pleasure. “This is the most lovely scalp massage I’ve ever received.”

He scowled. “Oh, just stop that. We’re on serious business here.”

River hummed a bit. “Jealous, my love?”

“I am not _jealous_. I do not know the meaning of the word jealous!”

“Clearly not, especially since you’re just standing there and shouting while waving your arms about.”

The Doctor dropped his arms and decided to ignore her.

“Right,” he muttered under his breath. “Stopping disease from devouring planet. Who here knows about Ityicha?” he added in a louder tone.

“They’re nasty,” One of the Hydropi giving River a scalp massage said with a hint of disdain. “Tree people.”

“Yes, and you’re water people, which I’m sure some would find equally distasteful.” The Doctor spun back to him … her … it? There really needed to be a better pronoun for species who didn’t have a gender. “It didn’t stop your planet from developing a trade agreement with it now, did it?”

“You’d have to speak with Jim the Fish,” the Hydropi said.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Jim the Fish?”

He, the Doctor decided it would be safer to use that, gestured to the immense body of water that spanned most of the planet. “Doesn’t visit the surface. You have to go see him.”

“Well, that would be lovely, except my friend and I can’t breathe underwater. Oh, I won the breath-holding tournament on N’plexa a time or two, but I highly doubt it’ll suffice for what we need to do.”

The Hydropi didn’t say anything for a moment as it wrapped a finger around one of River’s curls. “Ityicha uses suits.”

“All right. Haven’t been scuba diving for a number of years. Back in a tick!” The Doctor darted back into the TARDIS and up to the wardrobe room. He’d managed to find a couple of diving suits and scuba gear from various eras when River joined him. Her hair was messier than normal from the massage, and she was abnormally quiet as she picked up one of the scuba masks. 

“We’ll lure him to the surface,” she declared.

“River, River! An underwater city! It will be beautiful. Just think of it!” The Doctor handed her a snorkel. “Probably don’t want to use that though. Don’t think it extends long enough.” He took it back and tossed it over his shoulder.

River took a slow, deep breath. “I’ll investigate up here.”

Now he paused. Because something was off. He _knew_ River Song. She’d been eager to crawl over historic sites, break into the Pandorica, lead an expedition to The Library. An underwater kingdom with a mysterious being known as Jim the Fish? That should be a siren’s song to her. In the low light of the wardrobe room, he saw her drawn face and the lines of tension around her eyes and mouth. 

He carefully set the scuba gear he held down. “You’re afraid of water,” he observed.

She didn’t answer, just met his gaze. “Spoilers,” she finally said.

“But, in 1969. You landed in the swimming pool just fine.”

“Spoilers! I haven’t done that yet! Besides, I wasn’t trapped in it now, was I?” River shot back before turning away, and he knew she’d just let something slipped herself. Somewhere, somehow, River had been trapped in a body of water and it had led to a fear of it. Anger flared, just for a minute, because whatever it was had been so bad that it led to one of the strongest women he knew having a phobia. 

“It’s OK to be scared,” he murmured.

“It’s a stupid thing to be scared of. I’ll deal with it. I’ve always dealt with it.” River picked up one of the diving suits and visibly shuddered.

“No. No, not if it makes you feel like this.” He placed his hands over hers and waited until she was able to look into his eyes. His hearts lurched, one right after the other, and the thing he’d been feeling since Demon’s Run returned. He knew what this cost, to let herself be vulnerable to a single person. He thought of all those little tells, sprinkled throughout their time together. An unusually intense look. Closed eyes and a quiet sigh when she thought he hadn’t been looking. All that pressure to keep time in its proper order, and she dealt with it magnificently. She had remained strong for her team, for Amy and Rory, for Father Octavian and the Church, for him. No, he knew what it cost to let your guard down for just those brief seconds, and it humbled him that she was able to do that with him.

\------

It turned out they didn’t need the suits.

“You can use this,” one of the Hydropi said, handing the Doctor two thick blue pills.

River began to laugh.

“What?” The Doctor peered at the pills, squinting at them.

“It’s just … oh, never mind.” River took one.

“No, what? What is it about two thick blue pills that has you laughing, River Song?” He bopped the end of her nose with his index finger.

“Oh, my love.” She sidled up to him and whispered into his ear. “You haven’t had any _performance_ issues lately, have you?”

He blinked. “Performing what?”

River’s gaze swept from his head to linger at his belt buckle, then back to his head.

“No, River, I don’t …” It suddenly hit him. “River!”

She popped the pill.

“I do not appreciate that joke, River, and my _performance_ is just fine!” he ranted, quite sure he was as red as … well, red. It only took him another couple minutes to realize that her skin had changed. She looked like River, but her skin was covered with shimmering gills. Intrigued, he took his own pill and felt the change ripple through him. It wasn’t a bad change, more like stepping into a large freezer. “It gives you water-breathing capabilities.”

“So it seems.” River wandered into the water, just up to her ankles. It would be enough to satisfy her body’s need to breathe in the water for the moment. She pulled an elastic out of her pouch and started to tie her hair back. “You might want to lose the tweed, sweetie.”

“Point. Very expensive to clean, and it needs new lapels.” He shrugged out of the tweed, gave a mournful look at the torn lapels and accepted River’s toolbelt from her. She had changed into some sort of long, flowing dress with leggings that looked similar to the outfit she’d worn in Utah. “How many guns are you wearing?”

“Care to make a physical inspection?”

“Just asking,” He dropped the tweed and belt inside the console room and pulled the TARDIS door shut before kicking off his shoes. He padded over to her wearing striped socks. “We’re going under water.”

“And, there’s a thing called waterproof guns.” She reached for his hand, and they laced their fingers together. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Spoilers?”

She gave him a sad smile. “Spoilers.”

“Well, then. Let’s go meet Jim the Fish.”

They waded into the water after the Hydropi until it was just past waist level. Then they dived. River squeezed the Doctor’s hand tightly, and instinctively they took a breath before following. It took the Doctor a moment to realize it was safe to keep his eyes open. His breath whooshed out at the same time his eyes opened, and he was relieved to find he could breathe as normal. The pills also gave the benefit of ensuring that the water didn’t sting their eyes either.

“River.” It was more to test his voice, and other than it sounding a bit watery, it was normal. He glanced over to see she had opened her eyes, but was still holding her breath. She focused on him, and he could tell when she started to breathe normally after a moment of brief panic as her body adjusted to the water-breathing. After a moment, she began to laugh, and so did he. Fish and other tropical plants wafted around them, and it was like standing in the middle of an aquarium, looking at it from the inside-out.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed as they swam after the Hydropi. Coral reefs had been turned into elegant buildings, and fields of seaweed waved gently as farmers pruned the crop. The sand was white and clean, untainted by pollution. There was no garbage, no plastic rings that could ensnare a fish and strangle it. “Do you think this is where J.K. Rowling got the idea for that one task in _Goblet of Fire?_ ”

“Could very well be.” He’d long suspected that Rowling had done some sort of time traveling but had been unable to confirm it. “This is very much like Harry Potter, isn’t it?”

“It’s like Gillyweed, but not.” River spread the fingers of her free hand. “Not webbed, and I don’t think Harry sprouted gills like this.”

“Well, you need some poetic license there.”

“I suppose. Pills are vastly easier to handle than stuffing a bunch of Gillyweed in your mouth. The Hydropi are more like humans than the Merpeople as well.” River raised an approving eye as one Hydropi with golden gills swept by them, tall and proud and carrying a spear. “In the most appealing of ways.”

The Doctor snorted. “Harry Potter fan then?”

“Yes. Always have been. They were about the only books I cared for when I was little. When the last one came out, my best friends and I attended the book release.” River’s eyes sparkled.

The Doctor’s narrowed. “Define attended.”

She winked. “Oh, I might have broken into the storeroom when they were delivered two weeks earlier and nicked three copies.”

“River!”

“And then we might have spent the evening of the release telling everyone spoilers.”

He glowered at her. “I suppose you were one of the people who thought it funny to drive about before the sixth book came out and yell, ‘Snape killed Dumbledore, page 606!’”

River merely grinned.

“ _River!_ ”

“Oh, look, we’re here.” River brushed by the Doctor as the Hydropi came to a stop outside of a large building with a somewhat neat bed of sea plants tended near the entrance. The Doctor was quite expecting some sort of grand palace akin to Tricopa’s and was about to comment on that when the door burst open and a Hydropi was ejected from the building so fast that it left a trail of white bubbles obscuring the door.

“Stay out until you pay off your tab!” A purple-gilled Hydropi yelled after the one he’d just thrown out. He dusted his hands off on his apron and gave the Doctor and River a steely glare. “You two aren’t Hydropi. You better not be from that filthy Ityicha.”

“We’re travelers! Just visiting! I’m the Doctor and this is …” The Doctor glanced at River only to find that she was no longer standing there. No, she’d gone ahead and had pushed her way into the building.

“Now, _this_ I like,” River said with great enthusiasm.

The Doctor peeked over the shoulder of the apron-wearing Hydropi to find that the building was actually a cross between a bar and a dance club. A rather well-stocked bar stretched down one wall, and a platform extended from the opposite wall with a glitter ball twirling from the coral ceiling. 

River turned back to the Hydropi bartender. “Where’s Jim the Fish?”

He sniffed at her. “There’s no one here by that name.”

With a smooth motion, River had brushed back her skirts, drawn her blaster and held it to the Hydropi’s forehead. “I’ll ask you again. Where’s Jim the Fish?”

The bartender peered down the barrel of her gun and gave a little snort. “That stuff doesn’t work under water.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t challenge her like that,” the Doctor warned.

River pirouetted and shot the glitter ball. It exploded into a thousand fragments, suspending in the water before slowing drifting to the sand that served as the bar’s floor. 

“My glitter ball!” the bartender yelled.

“Told you,” the Doctor said with a slight sigh. “River …”

“Not now, sweetie, I’m negotiating.”

“With guns?” He tried to ignore the rather inappropriate tingling her theatrics were causing. That’s what it was, he told himself. Theatrics. He shouldn’t be liking this so much. Except he did. A bit. Maybe more than a bit. More annoyed with himself than her, he addressed the bartender himself. “Look, she’s not going to hesitate to bring this building down around us, and I’m rather partial to this shirt. Don’t want to get it messed up. We just need to know where Jim the Fish is, get some information and be on our way.”

The bartender gazed mournfully at the remains of the glitter ball. “That cost me a ton to import from Earth. Genuine antique from the late 20th century.”

“You were ripped off.” River picked up one of the fragments and inspected it. “It’s foil glued to plastic. This is … 48th century, yes? The real deal would have fallen apart long ago regardless, or you’d need a time traveler.” River dropped the fragment and strode over to the bartender. No, the Doctor realized, not strode. More like sashayed. Oh, she’d figured something out, and he had a strong hunch he knew what it was.

“I think,” River said, lazily tracing her finger down the center of the Hydropi’s chest, “that you’ve struck a deal with a Time Agent. Oh, a lot of this stuff in here is highly illegal, especially since it’s lifted from other centuries. Like that bar my sweetie is standing next to. Comes from a place called Mercy in the 1800s, United States. How do I know that?” She flashed a smile at the Doctor. “Spoilers.”

The Doctor coughed, shifted nervously and wished he had his tweed to hide … _things_. Bloody _things_.

“Taking items like this to another century and selling them? Oh, I think the Time Agency would have a thing or two to say about that.” River smiled serenely. “Now, you either take us to Jim the Fish, or I’m going to have a little chat with a former Time Agent I’m on extremely good terms with. I’m sure he’d be very interested in this discussion we’re having.”

The Doctor just stared at River as his brilliant mind worked it out. Granted, she spent the majority of her time in an era the Time Agents were known to own, but still … She winked. He nearly smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. Jack Harkness. _Of course._ He really shouldn’t be that surprised, but it was a small world … er universe actually. 

The bartender glared at River, then jabbed a finger at a door in the back of the room. “He’s in there asleep. You owe me a glitter ball.”

“I owe you nothing. I won’t, however, put a hole in that pride and glory that’s your bar. Come along, sweetie.” River kept the gun out as she strode to door and kicked it in.

“Sorry,” the Doctor whispered. He quickly scurried behind her, wondering who was actually in control at the moment … and realizing that it wasn’t him. It hadn’t been since he’d stepped foot on the planet. It was an odd thing, really, and the only other times it’d happened to him recently had been because of River. 1969, the Pandorica, the Weeping Angels, the Library … he tried to chafe, but he had to admit that he was a bit impressed. Normally it was everyone else trying to keep up with him.

River was standing over a bed, gun pointing at the cowering Hydropi clutching the blankets to his chin with one hand and a wicked-looking harpoon in the other. “Hello, Jim. I think it’s time we had a little chat.”


	5. Chapter 5

It really was, in the Doctor’s mind, the strangest day he’d ever had. And he’d had some very strange days.

It had started with a march toward war, as he and Rory combed the galaxy to find Amy and baby Melody. Now, hours and hours and millennia and miles and all other sorts of distance in time and space later, he was in an underwater nightclub singing very bad karaoke and being heckled by a group of fish people. Really, it was quite rude. Actually, it was a lot of fun. Not that he would tell River that. She was too busy sitting at the bar and smirking, having managed to deflect any attempts to get up to make a fool out of herself..

“Look, honey, try to keep it in your register,” River critiqued when he stumbled back to the bar after a failed attempt at “Bohemian Rhapsody,” a glass of something he couldn’t identify in front of her. She’d had two of them and coaxed him into having one himself sometime between the third and fourth song. To his surprise, and the pleasant buzz surrounding his senses, it wasn’t that hideous and was actually somewhat friendly to Time Lord metabolism. “You should do Sinatra. I have it on good authority that you’ll do a lovely duet with Frank one day.” Her gaze slowly raked him from head to foot, and he squirmed. He blamed the alcohol. “Be sure when the time comes to wear the suit and fedora.”

“You wouldn’t shoot it?” He picked up his glass and squinted at the remainder of his drink.

Her breath ghosted against his ear, and he shivered. “Not that hat,” she murmured, and he swallowed. “Besides, sweetie, it was your idea to do a karaoke contest with Jim in exchange for the information. You wouldn’t let me use my gun.”

“Dr. Song, your shooting is better than his singing will ever be,” Jim spoke up. He was one of the Hydropi that had mottled skin with an array of rainbow-colored gills all over his body. He showed them off to great success by wearing as little as possible. He wore oversized sunglasses despite any need for them and an atrociously styled Elvis wig. He took great pride in his appearance, and River had managed to at least partially win him over when she explained his precious glitter ball had been a fake. 

Jim gestured to his glass, and the Doctor and River quickly picked theirs up. It was some sort of toast he did that involved banging the glass on the table and splashing it everywhere. It most likely had its origins from where in medieval times, they would smash goblets together in case the wine was poisoned. The poisoned wine would then be shared. It meant that Jim didn’t trust them still, the Doctor thought, and he didn’t blame him. Not after River’s little wake-up call.

“Right. I’ll sing a song for the pair of you, then we’ll go have a chat. About that replacing that glitter ball, Dr. Song …”

“I’ll take it under consideration,” she finally relented.

“River, you are not stealing a glitter ball from … from anywhere,” the Doctor hissed as Jim worked his way to the stage.

“Who says I’m going to steal it, honey? I am perfectly capable of paying for things myself. Just like you, Mr. Sonic-and-a-Cashpoint..” She finished her drink and scanned the bar. “Some initiates from the Brotherhood of Maldovar over there.” She indicated a table in the darkened corner. “Karaoke’s banned in their cloisters.”

They were robed figures that reminded the Doctor far too much of the Church for comfort. But they didn’t seem to be a threat, nor did they seem to bother River. On stage, Jim was trying his best to channel Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton at the same time, but really he was doing far worse than the Doctor.

“I love this song,” River murmured, her voice low and cheeks flushed. For a moment, the Doctor thought it was because of the alcohol, but then began to wonder if it was something else. He studied her over the rim of his empty glass. Yes, definitely something else given the way she suddenly pinned those green eyes on him, and it felt like they were the only two in the room. 

He blushed and suddenly found the glass very interesting. “Why?”

She didn’t answer for a few seconds, long enough for him to focus on Jim singing. “Sail away with me to another world, and we rely on each other, uh-uh.” He punctuated that with an Elvis hip sway. 

“I’m a much better singer than that,” the Doctor boasted, but when River didn’t answer, he gave her a another sideways glance. Her eyes were closed, her face relaxed. She looked at peace, and she clearly wasn’t listening to the atrocious sounds Jim was masquerading as music. She was lost in her memories, and whatever it was had turned her cheeks pink and humming a bit under her breath. His gut twisted, and he wondered whatever she was remembering that he was involved somehow. He really hoped so. If he was going to be jealous, he might as well be jealous of himself.

The Doctor leaned into her, fully intent on prying whatever it was out of her. Well, as much as he could before running into the spoiler wall. He was about to whisper in her ear when she suddenly turned her head, brushing her lips across his. “Don’t be cross, honey,” she whispered, stood and shot the chandelier.

“My chandelier!” The bartender wailed as the room went pitch black. But, it was enough time for the Doctor to see the robed figures had moved and were heading toward them with weapons brandished. 

The Doctor yanked out his sonic and waved it around, thin green beam providing a little bit of light for them. River grabbed his hand, and they swam furiously across the room as plasma bursts cut through their path. They focused on the flashes of light from the monks’ guns that lit their way until they were close enough to the door to see a little. Suddenly, River pivoted and took the first monk down with a shot to the shoulder, the second by blowing his kneecap to pieces.

The Doctor pulled away from her, grabbed a chair and smashed it across something solid. It gave a shriek, then landed at his feet.

“That was the bartender, sweetie.”

“Right. Well.” He used the piece of chair he still held to trip up a monk. “Can’t see, dear.”

River tugged him back to her by his braces, and he felt the cool press of her lips against his. “Geronimo,” she murmured against his mouth and pulled him to the ground. It rumbled as something exploded, and debris shot through the water. The Doctor lifted his head to see there was now a hole in one of the side walls with the watery light from the surface illuminating the room.

“You had a grenade,” he managed. “Where were you hiding a grenade in that dress?”

“I keep telling you, you ask questions like that and you’ll have to do a physical inspection.” She squinted through the dust. “That’s the last of them.” 

He could see a pile of arms and legs under the rubble and hoped there weren’t any casualties. “What do they want?”

“Considering it’s the Brotherhood, anything from simple information to illegal gadgets. Jim’s known in these areas for fencing vortex manipulators and other time-manipulation devices.” River frowned as she picked her way to the debris to where the blast also had gotten Jim. She tapped his cheek. “Out cold. He’ll be fine.” 

But there was something off about it, the Doctor thought as River went to check on the bartender. The monks had been heading for him and River, not for Jim. Granted, they would have had to bypass them to get to Jim. They could have gone for Jim at any time, so why now? Nothing was pure coincidence. He’d have to mull it over later.

\-----

An hour later, they had all the Brotherhood initiates sequestered in a coral reef that passed for a jail, and Jim had roused from the untimely nap that River had caused -- though she’d breezily informed him that it’d been a byproduct of subduing the monks. The Doctor rolled his eyes throughout.

Jim whispered a set of coordinates in River’s ear before giving her a very throughout kiss. 

“For saving my life. Though the way your fella is glaring at me, I better not do that too often,” Jim said.

“I am not glaring!” The Doctor protested. Well, he wasn’t. Much. Not really. He wasn’t glaring. River could kiss whoever she wanted. So there.

“He’s adorable when he’s pouting. Bless.” River laced her fingers with his once more and waved to Jim. “We’ll see you later, Jim!”

“You bring me that glitter ball!” Jim said with a waggled of his beringed finger.

“My chandelier. My club,” the bartender wept. “The chandelier was from a 17th century ballroom. Never be another like it. So, so much money lost.”

“Also fake,” River whispered to the Doctor as they swam out of the nightclub. “Whichever Time Agent he has in his pocket is making very good money off him.” She absently kicked her legs behind her. 

“And the club itself?”

River merely smiled. “Oh, I’m sure with a little persuasion, we’ll have the Brotherhood picking up the tab.”

The Doctor narrowed his eyes at her. “You did more damage than they did.”

River ignored that fact with a little cough. “I need my tablet. I’m not sure where this is at, and my tablet’s on the TARDIS. Regardless, the water source is above ground, and we won’t need to go back under. These pills are probably going to wear off soon.” She rubbed the back of her arm, and scales floated into the water.

The pill wore off just as they got back to the TARDIS. They worked in tandem, River keying in coordinates while the Doctor drove them to a spot far enough back from the spring that there wouldn’t be a risk in contaminating the source. He popped his head out the door while River hunted down a glass jar and sterilized it. It was a miniscule patch of land that had a spring in the middle. Water burbled out of spring and cascaded to a small pool that lapped against black, glittering sand. 

“Alright, I’m ready. Stay here, honey, we don’t want to risk contaminating the water.” 

“We’re not going to …,” his voice trailed off as he turned to see River standing in the middle of the console room naked, and the glass jar in her hands. He swallowed. Hard. “Um … you seem to have lost your clothes. Did that washing machine on the third floor, east wing, attack again? I thought I had subdued it, but maybe I should go fiddle with it. And some wires. And build a cabinet. And not look below your chest. Oh, I said that one out loud, didn’t I?

River smirked. “Bless,” was all she said as she strode to the door. “I looked up the history of how water was retrieved from the spring for various rituals, and no clothes were worn. Possible contamination from fiber and dirt. He noticed her hair was tied back and coiled into a bun and, sadly, the nail polish had been stripped from her toenails. He liked that polish. 

“You can paint my toenails again when I’m done,” River said with a flirty grin, and the Doctor snapped his gaze back to a safe spot. The ceiling. Maybe it was time to clean it. All ceilings could do with a nice scrubbing every once in awhile. 

He heard slight shuffling, then couldn’t help but look as she walked across the sand to the spring. Wisps of hair escaped the bun and shone in the fading sunlight. It made an arresting picture as she stepped careful across the pristine sand and knelt next to the spring and held the jar out so the stream of water could pour into it. This was a sacred place, he firmly reminded himself, and this was a sacred ritual. His thoughts didn’t need to stray beyond that. But, it was a thing of beauty in its own way. A human/Time Lord hybrid doing a ritual as old as the planet itself. All of these twists and turns and species winding their way through the vast universe, and they still took the time to do these rituals. It was breathtaking. She was breathtaking, he silently added as his eyes rebelled and strayed below her chest. Time shifted and whirled, and oh, he could suddenly _see_ , and it terrified and excited him at the same time.

There was nothing to cover her except his torn tweed, so he wrapped it around her shoulders as she walked in the TARDIS. “You’re um … getting cold,” he flubbed as he all but sprinted to the console and started to smack buttons and hoped beyond hope that she wasn’t noticed he was trembling or other physical signs of naughty eye-straying. He punched in the first sequence, then hesitated. He looked over the console to where she stood at the door, staring at the spring. His jacket hit midway down her thigh “The song. The one Jim sang. You said liked it.”

“I do, yes.” She closed the door behind her.

“Why?”

“It’s part of a very sacred memory for me. One from a long time ago.”

The way her eyes shimmered slightly, from tears and memory, was as clear as a bell. Yes, he was involved in it. He swallowed and absently twirled a dial on the console. “You and I … we …,” he made a kissing noise. “But, we also um …” he laced his hands together back and forth very fast, hoping River would understand what he was getting at. “You know. That.”

“Oh, honey. Never, ever play charades.” River tugged the coat around her and gently deposited the jar on the console. “Yes. Yes, we do. I happen to have it on good authority that you enjoy that quite a bit.”

“Well … yes. Of course. That um … it should be enjoyable. _That._ Shouldn’t be doing that unless it’s enjoyable.” His foot twitched, and he thought about bolting up the stairs and out of sight. But he’d seen the timeline flaring as River had retrieved the water. That one bright string of time that had wrapped itself around this moment, this location, this discussion. He and River were always coming here. No matter what decisions he’d made, what choices she’d made, they would always be standing here having this discussion. “I’m not good at this. Rubbish, actually. Just ask Rose. Or Romana. Or anyone else. It didn’t feel like for a long time that I had any choice in this.”

“Oh, honey. Did you ever think that I might have done the same?” River stepped to him, running her fingertips along the loops of his bow tie. “You’ll understand one day. When I was younger, I didn’t want this either. I tried running away for so hard, so long.”

She smiled. “Rory told me once that when two people were meant to be together, fate and the universe would conspire to do so, no matter what happened. He was talking about himself and Amy, of course, or so I thought. There’s been so much that’s happened to my parents, Doctor, some of it you haven’t seen yet. Yet, no matter what, there will always be Amy Pond and Rory Williams. Together, as they should be.”

The Doctor swallowed. “Was it worth it?”

“Every last second,” she said, and stood on her toes to kiss him. He closed his eyes and returned it, allowing them to just exist for that single, shining moment of time. Her hands snaked into his hair, and his crept under his tweed and around her waist so his fingertips lightly rested just above her bum. The kiss on Ityicha had been passionate and needy, with punches of heat that threatened to sear both of them. This one was sweeter, more intimate. It felt like they’d been doing this dance for years and years. He supposed in a way they had been. 

“I’m not going to find Melody Pond, am I?” The Doctor skimmed his thumbs over the small of River’s back and pressed his lips to her forehead.

“I’m going to be fine, sweetie. I’m happy.”

“If … If I don’t find you … Amy and Rory won’t have their baby.”

“Yes, they will. They’re going to miss out on a lot, but they’re still going to have their daughter. They’re still going to love her and cherish her, and she’s going to love them so very much.”

“What should I do, River?” He stepped away from her, pushing his hands through his hair. 

“I can’t make that decision for you, honey.” She rested a hand against the edge of the console. “It’s your choice. I mean it when I say I’ll stop you from finding baby Melody, no matter what it costs. But, if there’s anything I’ve learned about you, Doctor, you’ll figure out a way to find Melody.” She gave him a sad smile. “I’m going to get dressed.”

He watched her go. And as she disappeared into the wardrobe room, the phone began to ring. Slowly, he turned back to it as the answerphone kicked in … then Amy’s voice filled the console room.

“Doctor? Doctor, can you hear me? Are you ever going to hear me? Do you even know you’ve got an answerphone?” She gave a little half-laugh and half-sob. “How can you be clever and so completely stupid at the same time?” She didn’t say anything for a moment. “If you can hear this, just please pick up the phone.”

His hand automatically reached for the phone, an “Amelia Pond!” on his lips. 

“Don’t get confused. I’m not invisible or trapped in a space ball, I’m just talking on the answerphone. Just, please pick up the phone. You said you’d find my baby. You said you’d find Melody. Have you found her?”

His gaze flitted to the stairs, and he let his hand drop from the phone. 

“Because you promised,” Amy scolded him. “I know that she’s going to be OK, I know that she’s going to grow up to be River. But, that’s not the point.” She dragged in a deep breath. “I don’t want to miss all those years. You know, I can’t stand it. Can’t.”

Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, and damn it, all he could think of was the feel of River’s lips on his and her warning that she would stop him from finding baby Melody. No matter the cost to him or her.

“Please, Doctor, please.” Amy fell silent once more. “OK. Phone me back when you know something. Please, Doctor, at least do that. As soon as you know, OK? Alright. Bye.” 

The phone clicked off, and he dragged in a deep breath, willing away the tears. Amelia. Oh, his Amelia Pond. So brave and so broken, and it was his fault. He rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes and allowed himself to sink to the floor.

River.

Or Amy.

He had to choose, and no matter what, in the end he would hurt someone he loved.


	6. Chapter 6

It went remarkably smoothly after that. They landed just inside Tricopa’s throne room, and River handed him the antidote and instructed him on its use.

Tricopa took two swallows without question. Just as fast as he drank the liquid, the disease began to recede from his arm. He extended it, watching as it slowly revealed clear skin then disappeared. “It worked,” he murmured with a bit of disbelief, flexing the limb experimentally. He waited, as if expecting the disease to mock him and make a return appearance. When the skin remained clear and smooth, he allowed himself a shuddering sigh of relief. “Now, for my people. Doctor? Dr. Song? You are about to witness one of the planet’s miracles.” He clasped his hands together and began to murmur in a language that not even the TARDIS wasn’t bothering to translate. It was all part of the planet’s mysteries, one that wouldn’t reveal itself, even to them.

The floor began to quake, just a bit. Enough to where the furniture rattled but nothing toppled over. It wasn’t an earthquake, but the immense power held by Ityicha’s monarchy, the Doctor realized, his gaze riveted on the king. With a great cry, Tricopa dropped to his knees and slammed his hands against the floor. White flashes of light shot across the room and up the walls, cleansing the disease from it. When it faded, the tapestry panels had been restored to their original condition, and at the end, he noticed there was a new one.

The Doctor wandered over to it and was amused to see that it was Tricopa at his throne, a vase of water in his hands, and flanked by two figures that were most likely himself and River. Well, a man and a figure that had a mass of what was suppose to be curly hair, but instead looked like a child took a crayon and scribbled gleefully on the paper.

Behind him, River sighed. “They never get the hair right.”

The Doctor chuckled, tapped her nose and trotted back to Tricopa. “So, going to keep things going smoothly from here on out? What about all that trash?”

“The new waste-processing plant should be done within the month. My bigger concern is that Dr. Song is right. Someone most likely brought this disease on planet. I have to ensure it doesn’t happen again.” Tricopa wandered to the window. He sighed at the remains of the failed stake-burning in the courtyard. “My father treated the people here horribly to prevent such a thing. I don’t want them to suffer. This planet is beautiful. I can’t imagine being happy anywhere but here.”

“I believe I can solve that one for you.” River rolled up her sleeve and pressed a button on her vortex manipulator. “Ennista? We’re ready for you.”

The throne room door opened, just a crack. Ennista winged her eyebrows up as she took in the throne room, a low sound of wonder just under her breath. She caught sight of her king and quickly did a bow. “Sire. Dr. Song. Doctor. I got what you were looking for.” She removed the thin recorder River had given her and handed it over.

River used a thumbnail to activate it. The scratchy voice of the counselor who had protested the Doctor’s intervention in River’s execution came through, admitting to bringing the disease on planet and using a link to contact the Brotherhood. He raged in front of the cleaning staff, because to him they were no one. It never occurred to him that a member of said crew had been planted in there to spy on him.

But, the Doctor and River knew that every person was important.

Now, so did Ennista.

“You think he’s serious?” Ennista asked as she walked to the TARDIS doors with them a few minutes later. Tricopa had gone to have his counselor arrested. “The king, offering to pay for my law school?”

“Very serious,” the Doctor assured her. “You have the makings of a brilliant politician, Ennista. Don’t turn it down because you’re scared. Or, if you want,” he started to offer her a trip on the TARDIS then hesitated, catching River’s eye. She shook her head slightly, and he knew what that meant. They had other business to attend to. “We’ll come watch your first trial.”

“Counting on it, Doctor!” Ennista waved them off.

Once they were back in the TARDIS, River pulled a vial of purple liquid out of her pouch. “I picked this off a Brotherhood monk when we were with Jim. I ran it through some tests after we picked up the water. It’s the bacteria that created the tree-rot.”

“So, they were coming for us.” The Doctor held it up to the light.

“They must have just gotten the transmission from the counselor.” River took it back from him. “I’ll go destroy this.”

\-----

There were no new messages from Amy, which was a very good thing. The Doctor took them into the vortex and left the TARDIS drifting there, not quite sure where to go next. He should be taking River to see Amy and Rory, to give them that much comfort. He needed to be investigating Melody’s whereabouts or trying to coax them out of River. Oh, who was he kidding, he’d be more likely to successfully interrogate a Dalek than he would to get that information out of River.

More as a stalling technique than anything, he went in search for a coat to replace his tweed. He still had several tweed coats to wear, but he felt like something new. It took a few minutes of searching before he found a smart, dark green overcoat. He swirled it on and decided it met his approval. With a spring in his step, he headed out of the console room and saw River had changed again. She was back in the dress she’d worn to see Jim the Fish, her hair braided. She was barefoot, and he spotted the red polish on her toenails. He swallowed and pulled the coat around him. Yes. Yes, a longer coat would be a very good thing around River Song.

“How do I look?” He swept his arms open as he paraded down the stairs.

She flashed him a brilliant smile. “Amazing.”

“You better believe it.” They grinned at the repeated exchange. They had a habit of that, he noticed. He liked that. There was something very settled about it. He ran his hand down her arm, brushing by to pull a lever on the console, then looked down into that smile again. On the console, his fingers entwined with hers.

There were grand, epic moments in life. Huge, life-altering decisions made in overwhelming situations. But, the absolute beauty of complex relationships, he knew, was that those same life-altering decisions could be made in the space of a heartbeat. Two in his case. As River smiled at him, with those magnificent eyes filled with devotion and trust in him -- despite knowing he repeatedly wanted to change her very existence … Everything shifted and locked into place, and tears came to his eyes. 

“Sweetie?”

“How am I ever going to tell Amy she will never see her baby again?” he asked hoarsely.

“Oh, sweetie.” She took him in her arms and let him finally weep against the crook of her shoulder. Her hands threaded through his hair, rocking them back and forth as she crooned soft words in Gaillifreyan. Amy and Rory. His Ponds. They would hate him for this, for being so, so, so selfish. But not a single line. River had made him swear that a long time ago. Don’t change a single line of their time together. This was what she had meant. Not those early attempts when he thought of walking away and changing everything because he’d been too stubborn, too afraid. No, it was here. Demon’s Run. Here, he had to choose which path to follow, and he wasn’t strong enough to risk losing River. Not after she’d wormed her way into his soul and refused to let go.

For once, he wanted something all his own, something he didn’t need to fear losing because, in a way, he’d already lost her. He’d seen her die in the Library. He’d seen her as a newborn at Demon's Run, insulting his fashion sense from the start. Now they were filling the spaces in-between. He gave himself over to the inevitability that he had fallen in love with this maddening, not-quite-human, very nearly Time Lady who was also very much a Pond. He loved River. He loved Amy and Rory. Somehow, he’d sort it all out.

“Amy and Rory will be OK,” she soothed. “They will be fine, and they will be happy. Just remember that.”

He would remember it. He would carry it like a mantra, repeating it to himself over and over again in the days and weeks to come but. Now, he allowed her to gently wipe the tears away with the pad of her thumb before leaning into kiss her. His hands twitched a bit before settling at her waist, and he was pleased that he wasn’t jerking about like an overexcited mime any longer. It felt he couldn’t get enough breath and his respiratory bypass wasn’t working, giving him a heady rush as they leisurely kissed. This was going to hurt like hell, this thing they had between them. But, he was too far along now to even consider turning back. 

\-----

They went buffalo racing on the ice floes of Norgalway and had a duel with the Three Musketeers of Gall. They picnicked in Ancient Greece, solved a mystery with Cleopatra (who happened to fancy both of them) and rescued a lost family of Narns from an asteroid that was about to crash into a planet. When a craving for chips hit, the Doctor took them to Calderon Beta and was pleased to see from the look on River’s face that they’d been here before. Many times, she admitted, and fed him a chip before pushing him into an alley so she could properly snog him. 

In a lot of ways, it felt like a honeymoon. As the days slipped by, it was more natural to lay a hand at the small of her back as they walked, link hands or be pulled into a darkened corner for a quick snog. He was rather pleased when he happened to be the one initiating those. They both avoided his phone and stayed away from the TARDIS as much as possible in case Amy tried to call again.

They eventually wound back up on Ityicha, landing a year after the tree-rotting disease was eradicated. The planet was thriving, and the waste treatment facilities were doing their job. There were no longer cascading rains of waste puddling at the roots of the immense trees. Instead, everything was piped underground to be turned into fertilizer. It kept the trees strong, Tricopa explained as he personally gave the Doctor and River a tour. 

In three days time, Ennista would be taking the bench as an assistant prosecutor in training, working on the trial of the counselor that had poisoned the trees. As promised, the Doctor and River would be there -- especially since Ennista turned up at their room with a subpoena that proclaimed they would be asked to testify as witnesses.

“If you’re not there, we’re sending the guards after you,” she threatened, but grinned at them all the same. “I think they’ve a desire to see you in chains, Dr. Song.”

“There’s so many ways that can be taken, Ennista,” River said with a flirty wink. The Doctor found himself studying the ceiling with a blush. “Don’t worry. We won’t shirk our judicial duty … again,” she murmured under her breath.

“Again?” The Doctor asked after Ennista had left.

“Let’s just say when I was younger, I skipped out on jury service by doing some excellent hacking. I wound up having one of my closest friends being summoned in my stead.” River smiled fondly. “One day, I’ll even tell you who it was. Oh, but it was hilarious. The police showed up looking for him while he was in the shower. His girlfriend was over at the time. It was quite the nasty little escapade that I managed to “fix” a few hours after he was hauled down to the station wearing nothing but a towel and a shower cap.”

_“River!”_

She gave a throaty laugh. “They never knew it was me. I think they suspected, though they couldn’t prove it. I did do them a favor. I got all of us wiped off the rolls to be called for jury service.”

“Any particular reason?”

“Detention for public protection.”

“Protecting you from the public, or the public from you?”

“What do you think, sweetie?”

He shook his head. “My bad, bad girl.”

They’d wound up in the same resort suite River had secured the previous year, declining rooms at the palace. It had one of the most spectacular views of the entire planet, and it felt right to be back there. Because they didn’t have the time on their previous visit, River tugged the Doctor out to the balcony to show off the view of the planet from there. It was of a tree branch that had been cut down and reshaped into the balcony. The rails were carved vines, with little flowering branches protruding from them. Native flowers entwined themselves among the rails.

In lieu of a table and chairs, fluffy pillows the size of a small bed were scattered everywhere, with little raised tables between them. Because they easily seated two, they plopped into one together and watched the paper airplanes soar through the sky. Fairy lights looping through other trees winked on as the sun started to set. 

They brought books with them and talked. It was here that River told the Doctor about her childhood, as much as she could remember, about living in Florida and Greystark Hall. About being in the suit, being shot at by Amy, and a terrifying trip into the vortex when she was eight years old.

“They forced you to look into the Untempered Schism,” he said quietly.

“Yes. I didn’t know it was called that at the time.” she touched his cheek, shifting so the book she had in her lap nearly fell off. “Don’t look like that. I’m _fine._ ”

He couldn’t stop thinking of the child in the spacesuit, looking lost and begging for help. Knowing now that it was River … the guilt crawled through him. She’d been forced to look into the Untempered Schism, held prisoner inside of a NASA spacesuit, then regenerated alone in New York. It was a horrible experience for anyone, but for a child … for River … “What else did they do to you? What happened after you regenerated?”

“Spoilers.” She ran her thumb over his cheek. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

He suspected the kiss she followed with was to distract him more than anything, and he let himself be distracted. Because he couldn’t let himself think about it anymore. If he did, he would go try to save Melody. And, he promised River that he wouldn’t. The risks were too much to even consider. He didn’t have to study their timelines to know that they would fray, disintegrate into nothing if he even tried. He would never tell River or Amy that a positive search on the location of Melody Pond had come up a few days earlier. He’d promptly deleted it.

So, he lost himself in her, in the exquisite newness of it all. His hands roamed beneath her jumper, tracing circles on the small of her back. She moaned a bit into his mouth, and he smirked. It was one of the many things he’d learned over the past few weeks spent with her -- how she acted like a cat whenever he touched her casually. A back scratch was heavenly, and a random shoulder massage had nearly been as gratifying as sex. His hands inched up her back until they were toying with the clasp of her bra.

She broke the kiss, pressing her forehead to his. “Honey, it doesn’t have to be right now.”

He faltered, his famous gift of gab completely and utterly failing him. “I haven’t … you probably know … not since Rose …”

“I know.”

“Well, I almost did with Queen Liz, but …”

She gave a throaty laugh. “Oh, sweetie. I _definitely_ know you didn’t manage that one.”

The Doctor scowled at her. “Really, that’s quite rude. I’ll have you know I never made it to the glade she was waiting at.”

“Mmm … hmm …” River playfully bit his ear.

Actually, the memory was extremely hazy, and the Doctor was starting to suspect that River had something to do with it. So, he cut off her teasing by promptly tugging her jumper up until she had to raise her arms. Her breasts were lovely and plump, and oh, he’d forgotten how much he enjoyed doing this. He eagerly explored her with his fingertips, brushing up the sides of her breasts and teasing the nipples through the lace cups. He gently kissed her pulse point, feeling the rapid beat beneath his lips as he fumbled with her bra clasp. Then, he gave up, pulled the sonic out of his coat pocket -- an awkward thing since he was busy paying attention to her clavicle -- and used it on the clasp.

It not only popped open, but it disintegrated the bra, causing River to laugh.

“I have lost more lingerie because you can’t figure out how bras work, sweetie,” she said, seating herself firmly on his lap. She circled her hips slowly, the friction through the layers of clothes they still wore both intoxicating and torturous at the same time. 

“Really, that’s quite rude. You should wear more front-clasp ones.”

“I’ll take it under consideration.”

“No, you won’t.” He kissed his way down her chest, and she lifted up to give him better access to her breasts. “I think, Dr. Song, you like to drive me mad.”

“Just a little,” she gasped as he took one of her breasts into his mouth. Her hands threaded through his hair, and she pulled just a little too tightly as she rocked back and forth. He pressed a kiss over each heart, then nuzzled her sternum. He could feel her double pulse just there, and it was the most incredible thing in the universe. 

He wasn’t sure how much time passed as he languorously explored her, committing each taste, smell and touch to memory. His hand slid into her knickers, pleased when she twisted and jerked like an electric current as his fingers slid over her. Slowly, he turned them so she was pressed into the pillows, all of that glorious hair spread out over the dove grey cushions. It gave him far more room to work with, pressing his body over hers as he gently circled her clit again and again, teasing her mercilessly as he felt her tense and reach … reach … then move his hand away right when he sensed she was about to reach her orgasm.

She swore in six languages at that, and he laughed and nipped at her collarbone. He worked her trousers and knickers off and repeated the maneuver once more. He was about to replace his fingers with his lips, when she reached down and pressed his fingers sharply against her. Her orgasm was as loud as she’d once promised it would be, and she fell against the cushions with a shuddering sigh.

“You cheated,” he scolded.

“I could have shot you for that,” she managed, and they began to laugh. He fell back on his side of the cushion, experimentally licking at his fingers. Slightly musky, a bit salty, and all hers. He filed that memory away as well. 

The stars were coming out as she helped him shed the rest of his clothes, pressing his back into the cushions as she explored him herself. He’d had this body for awhile, but oh, there were still new things to learn -- like how her tongue along his ribcage made him gasp, and a light tickle to the back of the knee was as arousing as well … well, anything could be arousing. He wanted so very badly to position her over his hips, but knew this was a learning experience for him. She was teaching him what this body craved, and one day in his future and her past, that he would return the favor.

She stopped short of actually taking him in her mouth -- it would have made the experience embarrassingly short -- but did run her tongue up the flat of her palm before skimming that hand up his shaft. Up, brushed over the tip, back down. He shuddered and fisted the cushions, mentally reciting archaic verb conjugations, every planet in the solar system, and … oh god. His hips twitched, and he found himself chanting her name as he reached for her, not wanting to finish this particular encounter in her clever hand.

Unlike him, she was merciful, scrambling over his hips and lifting hers so he slid easily into her. His expansive vocabulary failed to come up with the exact words to describe the picture she made -- hair in wild disarray, all the love she had for him shining in her eyes, set against a background of stars, soaring paper airplanes, and a magical tree city. As they moved together, as she found her release once more, and he fell after her, he knew this place, this planet, this moment, would be one of the most sacred memories he would ever have.

\-----

Too bad they had to run away the next day.

“Really? 115 public decency violations?” The Doctor managed as Ennista presented them with the stack of arrest warrants.

“People riding in the airplanes. We probably gave them quite a show,” River said as she peered at them over the Doctor’s shoulder. “That’s nowhere near our record.”

“River …”

“You might want to get out of here before the guards get here,” Ennista said, tongue-in-cheek.

“Right! Well, Ennista, good luck with your career! Here, you can clear these up!” The Doctor shoved the folder back at her. They just barely got back to the TARDIS as the guards shouted for them to halt. “Sorry, fellas! Going to have to take a rain check on that arrest! Say goodbye, River.”

“Goodbye, River!” she cheekily replied, tossed a kiss at the guards, gave them a cheerful wave, and they immediately slammed the door and headed into the vortex.

Fifteen minutes later, the Doctor found River in his library, hanging up a framed arrest warrant that she’d apparently nicked on one of the walls. It was the only thing on there. “Baby’s first public indecency warrant,” she said, stood back and admired her handiwork. 

“First? How many will there be?”

River hummed a bit under her breath. “Well, it is a big wall.”

“Well, it’s not like we’re going to fill it, are we?”

River winked and sauntered out of the library as the Doctor blushed and sputtered. But, he didn’t take the warrant down.

Fourteen framed arrest warrants later, they stumbled onto the TARDIS to find a newspaper laying on the console. The Doctor scooped it up. “Leadworth’s crop circle?”

“Oh.” River peered over his shoulder, then kissed his cheek. “That’s my cue.”

“To what?”

“To leave.” She brushed his fingers over his hair as his face fell. “Honey, we knew you’d have to go back to Amy and Rory someday. We have so much time ahead of us. But, it’s their turn now. You have to go see them.”

“I don’t know what to tell them,” he admitted.

“You’ll figure it out. Even if it’s Rule 1. Besides, I have it on excellent authority that you all will find out what happened to Melody Pond very, very soon.” 

She kissed him, and he pulled her to him, kissing her back. “River, I …”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “Not time yet,” she whispered. “You’ll understand soon enough. Just know that I do as well, with everything that I am.” She flipped two switches on the console, patted the time rotor and kissed him once more. Suddenly, he heard crack and sizzle of time being displaced, the smell of ozone, and then she was gone just as the TARDIS initiated her landing sequence.

The Doctor smiled fondly, adjusted his coat and scooped up the newspaper. He had to go speak with the Ponds about a rather unusual crop circle.


End file.
